


You can axe me but I don't know

by H2O



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Horrortale, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Love Story, One-Shot, Papyrus Needs A Hug, Sans Needs A Hug, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-24
Updated: 2017-10-24
Packaged: 2019-01-22 03:33:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12472532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/H2O/pseuds/H2O
Summary: 10+ years after the remaining HorrorTale monsters have escaped the Underground, they are still being 'integrated' into society so that humans can figure out how to make use of magic.





	You can axe me but I don't know

**Author's Note:**

> Nothing is canon afaik, I just wanted Sans to come pre-traumatized.
> 
> Generally in smut one-shots the smut is the build up to the uh... inevitable conclusion of the smut, ahem. In this case, everything else is the build up to the smut. 
> 
> Have fun!

 

When he's sleeping, that's when you stare.

 

The crack in Sans's skull isn't always visible. It isn't even usually visible, since he keeps his hood pulled up during the day, when he's out and about, and through some mysterious good fortune, it doesn't slip in the strongest wind. At home, he only became comfortable enough around you to let loose, so to speak, in the past couple of months. Likewise his brother papyrus, who looks perfectly normal from the eyes on up, wears a plush crimson scarf around his neck, covering his filed down teeth, split and healed lower mandible, and twisted, crooked nasal cavity. A lot of monsters hide the slight abnormalities they've acquired in the underground's eat or be eaten world. At least, of those who made it out.

 

At night time, Sans and Papyrus are just brothers, and one's teeth aren't so jagged and bowel-knotting, neither of them is teetering on the edge of a hunger-filled death, and they're rather sweet. Nevertheless you haven't been asking questions like you used to, and they haven't been offering much information.

 

Even when Sans started touching you, a pivotal moment that, had you stayed in your previous line of work, you'd remember as a huge career success instead of what it ended up as, his guard didn't come down for you often.

 

And now here you are, sleeping in his bed. Staring.

 

Sans is a light sleeper, definitely because of past necessity, and if you move he'll either wake up or stop playing at sleep and open his eyes, captivating you in the pinpricks of light hidden within the void, the gentle summons of an anglerfish to its prey. So you breathe slowly, feigning sleep yourself for his closed eyes, squinting at the hole in his head.

It's as dark as the night sea behind his eyes, and though you're frequently tempted to touch it, something stops you every time. The same something stops the pillow from squishing in when he sleeps on that side, although he wakes up with headaches when he lies on it too long. 

 

Before you had started dating, you hadn't dared to ask at all.

 

_(Past)_

 

One day Papyrus and you were cooking spaghetti with meatballs. You were straightforward about the reasons for cooking together, and he was, as always, understanding and kind to you, but optimistic that you might come around to true friendship, "the greatest ship of them all," in time. Papyrus commented on how strange the beef was compared to what he was used to. Knowing what you did, you glared at him for a second before schooling your features into neutrality.

He was too perceptive for you. "HUMAN, WHAT IS WRONG?" You shouldn't have assumed that Papyrus was referring to something else, he was too honest. He put down his knife with care, parallel to the edge of the cutting board, before turning to look at you, lowering himself further than his habitual hunch to approach your eye level more closely.

"Come on Papyrus, humans aren't all that delicious," Sans, saving you this once from jumping to conclusions, breathed in your ear and you shuddered just before something hot, wet, and large slid up the side of your neck, making your knees weak with a sweet rush of feeling.

You don't dare look.

"SANS! QUIT YOUR HARASSMENT OF OUR HUMAN FR-CASE WORKER. SHE IS HELPING ME WITH FRIENDSH-ER RESEARCH PASTA RIGHT NOW!"

"It's no big deal Paps. Is it, Sugar?" Sans asked you, prodding you in the back with a finger. Papyrus was distracted from your random mean assumptions, and that's what mattered. You looked down and your knuckles were white around the plastic handle of the spoon you'd found to stir with, brandishing it like some sort of saucy pirate. You set the spoon down, taking a moment to line it up with the edge of the stove. Papyrus's behavior was catching.

"I DON'T APPRECIATE YOUR INSINUATIONS EITHER. I SHALL ENJOY THIS BEEFY GOODNESS AND THAT'S THAT!" Papyrus declared, turning around woodenly and starting to chop again. But at least he was smiling.

At least they weren't Underground anymore.

Getting used to their humor, puns and silliness and straight-man antics mixed together with Sans's horrifyingly inappropriate jokes about eating children had taken you months. But at least the eating people jokes stopped once Sans stopped getting a rise out of you. Most of the time.

Sans interrupted your musings, poking you in the back again and bringing himself close to your ear, so you could feel the lava heat of his magical body radiating through the air when he spoke again. "Turns out," his voice brushed your ear, his breath stirring your hair, "I think I've just proven myself wrong." With not so much as a pop as a pressure in your ears, he disappeared.

It took you a couple of minutes to unfreeze yourself, and longer to relax your shoulders when you started stirring again. 

The unexpected flirtation, if that's what it was, branded itself into your memory.

 

But nothing came of it.

 

A couple of weeks after that strange incident, you arrived at the brothers' house for dinner, not bothering to knock and interrupting a chain of puns from Sans. Papyrus was grumbling about how long it had been going on and how Sans's jokes weren't funny.

"AND NOW OUR GUEST HAS TO PUT UP WITH YOUR SHENANIGANS!"

"You're right Paps, it's just not humerus."

Papyrus's movements were always deliberate and extra slow from everything you'd seen before. You had thought it a consequence of being eight feet tall with a hunchback, a limp, and so many injuries piled on top of each other. Papyrus's arm snaking out in a viper strike as his body fluidly moved into a perfect lunge to reach his brother and punch him softly on the arm disabused you of the notion. 

Monsters could be dangerous. Your training had gone over this.

Papyrus must have seen something in your eyes, because he straightened and fake brushed himself off, clearing his nonexistent throat for a moment. "I MUST APOLOGIZE FOR THE BEHAVIOR OF MYSELF, AND OF MY BROTHER."

Sans rubbed his arm, but smiled at you, that mask of a smile he wore outside under the hoodie. His eyes met yours before flicking to Papyrus and bak again. You weren't supposed to see that. You weren't supposed to know that. Your legs were stone, frozen in place. The Agency had studied monsters, but there was a lot they didn't know, and the cagey new species had many reasons to fear humans, and were raised to be cautious. Of course no one would see the eight foot nightmare vision moving so quickly. 

You put on your best smile, since your face still seemed to be working, countering Sans's mask with customer service cheer acquired through years of working Christmas shifts for extra cash. "It's fine, Paps!" Papyrus gasped at the use of his nickname, his hand fluttering to a spot over his chest where you supposed his heart would be, if monsters had them at all. You swallowed nervously. Sans was sweating, and both of your smiles were strained now. "But where's my hello hug?" Your heart started to pound in your chest as Papyrus moved toward you, practically shaking but otherwise as graceful as a glacier doing ballet, and then his arms bent around you, his hands wrapping around your belly, your soft, vulnerable belly, and then he lifted you up and up and up, giving you the slowest squeeze and holding you there for so long you started to worry before setting you down again.

He was warm, and his bones beat with a pulse of sorts. You shivered when he let go.

"I'M SO GLAD THAT YOU'VE FINALLY COME AROUND TO OUR FRIENDSHIP, HUMAN! THIS IS A NEW ACHIEVEMENT FOR ME TO RECORD IN MY JOURNAL! HELLO HUG FRIENDS ARE VERY DIFFERENT FROM TRAINING FRIENDS, AFTER ALL." Papyrus said, solemnity tempering his tone although he continued to shake with excitement. He returned to the kitchen, shuffling in a half-limp, ducking under the doorway, and if you hadn't just seen you'd never believe how quick he was.

You slumped, adrenaline draining from your hands and feet. "Thanks, Sugar." Sans said, looking in the direction of his brother in the kitchen through the walls. The collar of his shirt looked damp, and his hands were deep enough in his hoodie pockets to stretch it out.

"I won't tell," you said, not because you were afraid of Sans. 

"I know." Sans's shoulders started to shake.

"Then what's wrong?"

"I- it's good to see him happy," Sans said, choking up before he could continue. You stood there, not sure where to put your hands or yourself, watching him tear up over his brother's emotions and wanting to leave but not wanting to disappoint either of them.

"Um. Did you want a hug too?"Any terror you felt before was overshadowed by empathy, for these brothers who had no one but each other for so long, who, according to the records, had watched friends die, had killed traitor friends to defend themselves, and who had tried to live on slugs once before succumbing again to the savagery of the Underground. 

Sans, without answering, appeared in front of you instead of walking a few feet and fell forward. "Fuck," he muttered as you try to catch him and prevent him falling the rest of the way. His arms, still shaking, reached around your back and your t-shirt didn't pad the desperate pressure of his phanalges against your skin at all. As his hands brutalized your back, you moved at Papyrus's pace to bring a hand to the back of his skull, well away from the fragile looking crack, and stroked the back of his head.

"It's ok," you whispered. "It's going to be ok."

 

After some deliberation, sixty hello hugs, fifty-eight goodbye hugs, or, since you weren't counting at all, thirty days later, you turned in your resignation to the Monster Naturalization Agency. 

"I'm really sorry. I can't be impartial. They've kind of charmed me, you know? We're like, pals now. And it's been a year, I really think someone else could handle their case better than I could. And I'll cooperate with whatever you ask. I still believe in the mission. I just can't do fieldwork right now."

Your boss sighed, looking at your typed and signed letter of resignation. "I'll call you if we get anything. But you're the fifth one this quarter with this same damn reason, you know? Why the hell do you kids keep going soft for a bunch of murdering cannibals?" That wasn't fair, they'd all been granted a lot of immunity for extenuating circumstances, and they were victims of human genocide besides. You bit your tongue.

"They're made of better stuff than us. Even the scientist. Everything she did, she did because she wanted to save them all. We would have done a lot worse."

"Whatever. Door's over there." While your boss believed in the mission, he wanted monster kind to bring magic back to humanity more than he cared about them as individuals. 

"I'm sorry."

"I know. It's all right. I'll call you if there's anything else you might be a fit for. You were one of our first successful agents."

 

Sighing and stretching your aching limbs to try and keep warm, you eyed your radiator. The bills were too damn high, and money hadn't exactly been great before. You were due a small pension, maybe, thirty or forty years hence. That didn't help for the present, though. It had been easy enough to get a part time gig at a local coffee joint, and you saved on gas by walking, but winter was biting at your fingers and toes even when you wore sweaters to bed. It was fortunate that by taking your rice cooker over to Sans and Papyrus's, you were able to hang out in the warm sometimes, and also that you knew how to spice rice and beans ten different ways. But it was getting old.

You'd never know if it was your subconscious forcing a slip up or the alcohol, but when Papyrus found out that you were having trouble paying rent, he insisted you stay with them.

"Nah I don't think it'd be appropriate. I've got two bedrooms, I'd take up way too much space here with my office," which you never used, "and my big tv," which they would love, "and all my dumb books and my desk and stuff."

"OF COURSE YOU MUST LIVE HERE. WE HAVE PLENTY OF SPACE! WE CAN KEEP YOUR OFFICE THINGS IN THE BASEMENT FOR NOW, AND I WOULD LOVE TO HOST MORE BOOKS ALONG WITH OUR FAVORITE HUMAN." Papyrus said, insisting once more. He'd only had milk tonight, but his face was flushed with emotion.

"Rent is just high. I can get a studio and then I can find a job. It's fine." You waved your hand in a dramatic dismissive fashion, almost spilling your cider. You'd always been a little bit of a lightweight, and you could hardly afford alcohol so your tolerance was way down.

"Hey Sugar, let's get some food in you, eh? How about some Grillby's? Our treat. And then we can move your stuff over here. I'm sure we can figure out a cheap way to break the lease," Sans offered. Your stomach rumbled, protesting a month of rice, beans, and occasional cheese.

"My lease is almost up, it's fine," you said, shaking your head.

"Good. That's settled then." Sans grins at you, and it's not sincere, but it's closer than usual. The brothers were naturally frugal, but due to the insane amounts of money people were willing to pay for star stones or gold from the Underground, all monsters got a little more of a stipend than they would otherwise, and the MNA rented them space for cheap.

"I'll take you up on some food, but nothing else."

In the end you caved, believing that at least the savings on rent would let you help them buy more food. Grillby's burgers made the humble pie go down a little easier. After a meaningful look from Sans, Grillby waved away the table's bill, too, with a knowing, glowing smile.

 

 

Sans's eyes, usually friendly but wary even when he smiled, were missing their lights.

You hadn't been this afraid of a monster since your first weeks training. Sans spoke slowly, his voice echoing from within him. "Put down the knife." So you did, and you backed away from it.

You had thought it would be nice to prep some vegetables for dinner, and you didn't have to decide what to eat, salad or stir fry, if you started with peppers and onions. But Sans had walked in and then he was freaking out about you holding a knife. You had been sleeping on your couch in their living room, which was now a bit crowded with bookshelves and your desk, for a month. You had missed at least ten turns cooking dinner, so you had wanted a head start this time.

"Sans, pal, uh, are you ok?" you stuttered, holding up your hands and lowering your gaze, trying to use willpower transmit psychic waves of harmlessness towards him. Sans's magic was powerful if you recalled correctly, and efficient in its deadliness.

"Get out."

You spent the rest of the afternoon sulking in a chair in the basement, wishing that the wifi was a little better. You didn't think about going upstairs until after it got dark, but when you stood up, the door at the top of the stairs opened, illuminating Papyrus's shadow. 

"HUMAN?" he stage whispered at you. The small incandescent bulb's weak light hadn't prepared you for the cool light of the rest of the house, and you squinted at him.

"Yeah Paps, I'm here."

"COULD I TROUBLE YOU FOR A HUG?" he asked, making his way downstairs. His footsteps were as close to silent as the footsteps of a heavy, height-advantaged monster on ancient wooden steps could be as he made his way to you. His gait was a toe-heel, toe-pause-heel with his limp, mesmerizing you until he stood in front of you and extended his arms. In the darkness, they reminded you of spider legs.

"Why is Sans mad?" you asked, sorry for leaving him hanging but still smarting from the strange and terrifying treatment earlier. Papyrus looked away and his arms, still waiting for you, shook a touch. With a sigh you stepped into him and his gigantic form curled around you before he lifted you up and started to move towards the stairs.

"I AM SORRY HUMAN FRIEND TO HAVE JAPED YOU IN THIS WAY. YOU WILL JUST NEED TO TALK TO SANS YOURSELF," Papyrus said, avoiding eye contact with you, his face aflame in orange. So they blush, you thought. 

Sans was sitting on their old sofa, his face about as happy as passport picture.

"Fine, I just don't like seeing people with knives I don't expect. It was in my profile, wasn't it? Geez." Sans blurts out, refusing to look at you or his brother. "Put her down, Paps." Papyrus hesitates but sets you down.

"You're right, Sans. I remember your report better now. And it's ok. He's warm, and it's still cold out, and it's not all that great in the basement anyway. I'm sorry I ran off. Let's develop a system to deal with this, ok?" You sat, patting the sofa next to you for Papyrus to sit. With painful slowness, he lets his weight rest on the sofa. "It's fine if you take up more space." And so he does, sinking into the couch and closing his eyes.

Together you agree that if you're coming into the house, you should call to the kitchen, and if you start to do kitchen things, you should call out to the rest of the house. 

"Now about the food bill-" you started, hopeful to continue the progress you were making. You earned enough money slinging coffees to pay rent for a room at least, and definitely board. Neither of which Sans had been letting you pay.

"No need," Sans says, shaking his head. 

"Don't you want to eat nice things? I have enough money, we can just pool our funds-"

"You know the government gives us plenty. And the trust."

"Enough for two small humans. Maybe with the trust, enough for three. But we're not that small. I fought against their stinginess then and I'd still be fighting now if I hadn't quit."

"Yeah, why'd you quit anyway?" Sans snapped. "It was a sweet deal and now you're poor. What's the point with you humans if you're just going to go hungry again?" 

Papyrus sagged, slumping in a broken twig sort of way, when Sans disappeared. You looked at him then caught his hand in yours. Touch always gets their attention.

"I have no bills except rent for you guys and food. And I'm making 600 a month after taxes. I'd love for you to have any of it or all of it. Please? You're letting me stay here for free, but I don't want to give back nothing."

Papyrus gave you a disbelieving look. "YOU GIVE US SO MUCH ALREADY. THE WARMTH OF LIFE. THE WARMTH OF FRIENDSHIP. EVEN I HADN'T," Papyrus pauses here and shakes his head, "SANS TOUCHES YOU. DO YOU KNOW WHAT THAT MEANS?"

"I'd be living in a tiny studio without you guys. Please."

"MOST HUMANS WON'T EVEN LOOK AT US. WE'RE-NOT VERY NORMAL, EVEN FOR MONSTERS. IT'S BEEN A LONG TIME SINCE SANS AND ALPHYS WERE CLOSE." The mention of the dead doctor makes you flinch reflexively. But you know she was trying her best.

The pictures in her file still made you nauseous when you recalled them.

"Maybe I can just do the grocery shopping. And just use some of my money?"

"SANS WON'T LIKE IT."

"I know."

But he doesn't complain when you get meat almost every day.

 

Another couple of months, this time with a noticeable improvement in the quantity and quality of food and Papyrus's cooking skills, and Sans begrudgingly accepts your money a bit more officially.

"But you gotta do a favor for me," Sans said, winking. He's put on some weight, which is impossible, but his clothes hang a little less on him, as if there's some force filling them out. Who knew you were friends with a chubby skeleton? You wonder what's under there, if there's some ghost-stomach or just a lot of air, swirling around in the heat of his magic. 

"Hey, I'm giving YOU money. Not the other way around."

"Nah, I don't want it, so you gotta convince me. Do something in return, you know?" His smile is devious and you can't stop yourself from catching some of whatever happiness is infecting him today and giggling.

"Fine, fine, what is it?"

You found your hands encased in his warm phalanges, and Sans looks into your eyes, freezing you in place. "Go on a date with me?"

 

You overdressed for Grillby's a week later. You were wearing high heeled black leather boots, grey tights, and an elegant tight-knit sweater dress you'd picked up from Goodwill a year or two before. A silver buckled belt and heart pendant necklace finished the ensemble. Wearing your fluffy down parka over top felt like cheating, but you kept it on as long as possible once you realized how much you'd stand out in a greasy spoon like Grillby's.

Sans had a beer and too much ketchup on his fries, a double cheeseburger with pickles, and you had the same minus the ketchup. You laughed together, and the clinical part of your brain that still wanted to help monsters recover their society shut off in the pleasant haze of alcohol. 

Papyrus couldn't contain himself when you got home, and danced around you both, herding you upstairs and shutting the door to Sans's room behind you before you could process what was happening. You tittered, hands clasped with Sans's and he grinned at you.

"NO CANOODLING NOW, NYEH HEH HEH!" Papyrus said, at a volume that shook the door. "I'M JUST GOING TO TURN THE TV ON NOW. MY SHOW MUST BE WATCHED AT EXTRA VOLUME TONIGHT, IT'S… A SPECIAL EDITION! YES!"

"Oh shit, Sugar. We're boned." Sans gave you a sly grin, taking off his hoodie. It took every ounce of tipsy self control you had to ignore the crack in his skull and focus on the awful pun instead.

"Sans!" You giggled, swatting his shoulder.

"Did you have fun?"

"Yeah."

"Wanna go out again?" Sans asked, hope making his eye lights larger, making confusing emotions hammer on you like a bell. You had gone with him on a whim, not really serious, but there was something pulling you towards yes this time. You weren't into relationships, or being with other people at all, but somehow you had acquired two friendly roommates and they had gotten their hooks into your heart. And Sans was a stand-up guy, his terrible brand of comedy aside, proud but humble enough to listen and admit fault, in his own way. 

"I- it's not serious yet, is it?" Sans's eyes dim a bit when you ask. "I mean, the idea of an us is pretty new to me. And I don't want to lead you on in case things don't work out."

"Yeah. I'm pretty stuck on you, but I guess we don't have to call it going steady from a couple of dates," Sans said, shrugging, and wearing that stupid mask of a grin again. Your heart lurched in your chest at that. He had been so open with you until this.

"I DON'T HEAR ANY CANOODLING! WHICH IS EXCELLENT, BECAUSE THERE SHOULD BE NO CANOODLING!" Papyrus called from downstairs, breaking whatever tension there had been. When you look back at Sans, you're both laughing, and it's real.

"I guess the first date isn't over until I leave you at your place," you said, coming up with an idea. "But a second date sounds lovely."

Once you were outside the bedroom door, you leaned over and brushed your lips against Sans's forehead. You only got a brief glimpse of his face turning bright blue before the door slammed an inch away from your face.

 

It figured that you underdressed for the second date. Sans wore an actual jacket, and nice, dark jeans instead of whatever dingy sweatpants he usually dug up. And shoes, actual, real shoes. Not slippers or sneakers with the soles falling off. And a  nice hat, and no hoodie.

"You have to let me change!" You shrieked, pulling against his shockingly steady grip but failing to escape. "I thought we were going to Grillby's again. Come on!"

"Nah. We'll be late. I got a reservation." Sans winked at you and then your world disappeared.

No, the whole world disappeared. And there was nothing.

You blinked under streetlights, falling forward for half a step and catching yourself.

"What was that?" You didn't recall anything like that in his file.

"Shortcut," Sans answered, explaining nothing, and he would hear no more of it from you.

Getting over your embarrassment that you wore a baggy sweater and black leggings with sneakers to a fancy sushi place helped you start to enjoy the restaurant. You had an intimate private room, with a low table that hid a dip in the floor so that you could sit like you were in a chair, but your legs kept brushing against his. After you had given up on the menu and asked for whatever the chef thought was nice, you had received piles and piles of sushi, the names of which you hardly understood and never remembered, to the point that you had to stack plates on your tiny table. 

Sans assured you that you could dip just the fish in the soy sauce, and then he drank some with wasabi in it just to gross you out.

"Sans, where did you even find this place? Where are we?"

"Oh, um, well I looked for the best sushi restaurant and it was this place in New York and-"

"New York? The city?"

"Yeah…" Sans said, blushing blue.

"How did we get to New York City? Without flying or at least driving forever?"

"Shh. I'll.. Let's talk about it later, ok?" The look on Sans's face is a teenager's who just got a bad grade on a midterm and has to tell mom on the ride home.

"Fien, but-" you swipe a piece of Toro, something you recognize, from his plate, "I'm taking this in payment." You pop the delicacy into your mouth.

And so the sushi wars began.

Dinner takes hours, and you finish with tiny, intricate cakes.

Sans took you home the same strange way he took you to the restaurant, if you were even in New York, and it left you breathless enough that you had to lean on him afterward. You were in that state, with your arms around his neck, his on your waist, panting in the living room with his hat falling off his head, when Papyrus walked into the living room.

He dropped his fork, and with that adrenaline-inducing speed you knew he possessed, swept both you and Sans up in his arms. A humming feeling surrounded you, lifting the hair on your arms and making you feel giddy at the same time.

"I'M SO HAPPY FOR YOU BOTH!" Papyrus wailed, and you can't cover your ears or you would.

"You ok, bro?" Sans asked when Papyrus saw fit to set you both down. After patting his eyes with his scarf, Papyrus nodded.

"I'M JUST GOING TO MISS YOU WHEN YOU MOVE OUT."

"What's that?" You ask.

"WHEN YOU ESTABLISH A HOUSEHOLD TOGETHER." 

"Who says we have to move?"

"WHEN YOU GET MARRIED-"

"Whoa, whoa, hold on let's give it a little time, ok? And we don't have to move out."

"BUT YOU'RE SO-"

"Let's not rush it, ok Paps?" Sans interrupted, pressing his teeth together. Papyrus eventually calmed and managed to stop asking when the wedding would be. You didn't miss the looks he was getting from Sans, either.

That night you draped yourself over Sans on the sofa, your leg hanging over his, his arm around your shoulder, both of you slumped into a pile together. Papyrus still managed to obtain your hand somehow, and remembering how long he had held you for some of those hugs, you couldn't bring yourself to mind at all. Even if this thing with Sans didn't work out, you wouldn't have it in your heart to deprive these friends of touch again. 

They had awoken since that day, genuine smiles breaking through the numb exterior of the horror they had lived through. 

After a few episodes of some less-than-memorable Netflix show, Sans prodded your belly. Papyrus had gone to bed, warning against canoodling and winking super aggressively, a while ago.

"Hey. Our date isn't done yet. Take me home," Sans said. You grumbled at him.

"Sans you took me home, this is my bed, lemme sleep."

"Come on. We can buy you a real bed tomorrow. I just want to end our date properly and get some shuteye." You rolled your eyes but there was some light tone in his voice that dragged you upward and off the sofa.

"Fine," you said, dragging your feet all the way to Sans's room. "You'd better not slam the door in my face this time or I won't date you anymore."

"Understood," Sans said, grinning. You leaned over to kiss his forehead again, not wanting to push anyone's boundaries too far and get the door to the face despite his understanding. But at the last second, Sans lifted himself onto his toes and nudges his teeth up against your mouth, grabbing your shoulders. 

If he'd had a regular nose, you might have bumped it.

You were off balance and falling on him, but your heart was pounding in your ears anyway.

Your lips were starting to feel a strange warmth you were coming to associate with magic when Sans leaned back and down. "Sorry." His face was blue again, and you could see the conflict between slamming the door and not cross his features.

"No, that's ok. That was nice."

"So, um, that's the date then?" 

You could feel your face heating up, but you swallowed and powered onward. "So aren't you going to invite me in?"

"Say what?" Sans's eyes darkened and you continued anyway.

"Aren't you going to invite me in?" Your smile felt uneven.

"Time out." Sans's eyes hadn't lit back up yet, and you were getting nervous, and maybe a little creeped out. Was he mad?

"Sure."

"I'm new to dating. And I'm new to human dating. With monsters it's all," he stops, waving his arms a little, "different." You nod and he continues. "But from some of the television I've seen while I've been out here, it seems like you want to, um, sleep here? With me?" Your face lost control first and then you were laughing into your hands. "Come on, I'm serious." Sans's eyes are still dark, and you had to fight to stop. 

By the time you stop, he'd closed the door on you. Fair enough. You knocked. Shave-and-a-haircut. As if Sans would need either of those.

"Go away."

"Sans, please invite me in. I'm sorry. I was surprised."

"Shoo."

"I'll sleep out here and you'll trip on me," you said, lying on the floor.

"It's not locked," Sans replied, and since that was as close as you figured you could get to an invitation, you opened the door and walked in. You'd seen his room before, but it was dark now, lit only by a night light in the wall. Looking around you saw a lump of blankets on the bed that had to be Sans. His sheets and duvet cover are a really nice star motif.

"It's not ok that I laughed."

"Nope," said the blankets.

"I had a really nice time tonight. I think we might have something here, you know? If I can stop being a jerk about cultural differences."

"I thought I liked you, you know," the blankets responded. "I thought maybe you liked me. You're so nice to Papyrus even though we have to look terrifying to you."

"Not anymore. I wouldn't have come to work with monsters if you scared me. And I mean, maybe it took some getting used to. No reason to lie."

Silence.

"But the reason I asked you to invite me in, don't you want to know?"

"Not if you're going to laugh."

"I can only try not to."

"Fine. Tell me."

"Come out first, ok? Show me your place? Give me the tour?" You prodded the blankets. Sans's hand shot out and he gripped your wrist, making you jump.

"This is the bed. THat's the light, because it's dark. That's the other light. There's my desk. The end. What did you want?"

You lowered yourself to the bed and Sans loosened his grip on your wrist. The weight of you sitting shifted the mattress enough that Sans rolled over to you, and he huffed irritably.

"I just thought.. Can we turn the light off?" You touch a fingertip to Sans's shoulder. He sighs.

"Fine." The night light blinked off when he said the word.

Using your memory and Sans's shoulder as a guide, you found his face with your hand. Despite his frustration, he leans into your touch, and you feel a happy hum. Magic or not, you were just glad you could guess at his expression.

The kiss was more awkward than the hallway one.

First of all, Sans started trying to talk when your lips touched his teeth, not having noticed you leaning forwards.

Second, he flinched away from you.

Third.

Sans's free arm wrapped around your shoulder, a strange buzzing presence filling the air, and your lips were bruised from his pressing back so hard. Something cushioned his teeth, but when you opened your eyes, you only saw Sans's eye lights, and only felt his hand sliding down your waist to rest on your hip.

"Can we stay like this a while?" He asked.

"We can do more if you want."

"Yeah, I'm getting that feeling Sugar, but let's not rush this."

"Sure."

You woke up to Sans as your little spoon.

 

It became a ritual. Every night, you knocked on Sans's bedroom door, and every night he let you in, satisfied to cuddle up to you, sharing touch and warmth, falling asleep after a few tender kisses.

It was maddening, and you craved bedtime more every day.

 

Lounging on your sofa instead of the lumpy old one Sans and Papyrus had yet to get rid of, you asked Sans about the crack in his head.

"It's not all it's cracked up to be, Sugar."

"Sans."

"I need to relive that story like I need another hole in my head."

"Sans!"

"SANS ARE YOU TELLING AWFUL PUNS AGAIN?" Papyrus asked. Your feet were in his lap and your head on a pillow in Sans's lap. It was comforting more than comfortable and you took the opportunity to sit up, since you had been trying to let Papyrus sleep.

"Just getting a _head_ of myself, bro."

"SANS!" You and Papyrus both shouted at the same time as you pushed Sans over. He swayed, and then let himself fall towards you instead, onto your lap.

"Fine. I got in a fight. Not my story to tell."

Papyrus got up to go into the kitchen and you fell silent, wondering what line you had crossed. When he returned, he was carrying a plate of your favorite cookies. "IT'S OK SANS." He held out the plate to you. Sans stole your first cookie and got crumbs on your lap.

He finished the cookie before starting to explain. "One of the other boss monsters-"

"What's a boss monster?"

"They're a little more powerful than average. Most of us that were left, except maybe moldsmals hiding in the cracks of the ruins, were boss monsters. Anyway. One of them had taken Paps. He was just a baby bones, and I wasn't much of an adult myself. She wanted to train him up to be part of the Royal guard."

"THE ROYAL GUARD WAS A VERY ADMIRABLE POSITION TO BE IN, IN THE UNDERGROUND."

"And they got food too. Papyrus being so tall from a young age was ideal material."

"THEY GAVE ME MY SIGNATURE LOOK," Papyrus said, gesturing to his face.

"Yeah," Sans agreed, going silent for a moment. Papyrus's face had seemed like a mess more than any particular pattern to you before, and you watch him for longer than might be polite. His teeth look too short, as if they'd been filed down. "They beat him up, messed with his growth, injected some Determination. Don't ask, ok? I know you want to, but not right now. And then one day he came running back to me, crying up a storm."

"THEY TOLD ME TO CUT TIES WITH MY FAMILY, IF I HAD ANY. THE MARKINGS I COULD TAKE BUT THAT WAS TOO MUCH."

"When I saw what they'd done to him, it was too much too. In the end, I killed captain Undyne when she came for him, and got this little scar as a memento." Sans's finger slid from the void-like crack when he pointed at it. "It's just magic, like the rest of me, so nothing really goes in or out, but if we get the right healing magic someday to fix ourselves up to what we shoulda been, it might almost go away." He shrugged. "So now you know what made killing easy for me, I guess. Before that we just stole things. And eventually, there were the humans."

You felt your heart stop for a second. You knew about the six children, and especially the seventh, already. You also knew that monsters were protected after more than a decade of hard work by the Monster Naturalization Agency. There were only a couple thousand left, and humanity had a lot of hope for them and their magic.

"Did you..?" You couldn't quite get the full question out, but Sans nodded anyway.

"It's why I hesitate with humans. I was the judge. More like the executioner. It was kind of a joke, calling me a judge. But it wasn't funny. No human could pass judgement."

"And then you ate them?" You didn't know why you were asking, since you know the answer. When they did your psych eval to see if you could handle fieldwork with the nightmare-visions that were monsters, you had learned a lot. Monsters didn't need an incredible amount of sustenance to live, just enough to support the small amount of physical matter integrated with the magic, but all they had underground were spiders and slugs, dust and the occasional fallen animal. Usually.

You supposed he had wanted you to know before things went too far.

That night, to your shame, you had slept on the sofa. 

Sans understood. And, heartbreakingly, so did Papyrus. 

Everything you knew about them showed that their corrupted, murderous, vicious society should have made the mad, but they had come into the light above remorseful, confessing right away, and ready to throw themselves at the mercy of humans. 

The night after, with a heavier but more determined heart, you had knocked on Sans's door again, and he let you in.

He didn't turn off the night light until you came in.

"You're not afraid?" He asked, wrapping himself around you.

"Are you?'

Contentment buzzed around you, and Sans drifted to sleep. You stayed awake.

 

For months after, through the turn of seasons, you had been staring at him.

Although things hadn't gone further since, although you were back in your routine, the silent understanding between the two of you was enough for a while. Sans's hoodie got lost around the house more and more often, and if he caught you staring, sometimes he'd make a joke. You wanted to find the healing magic that would help him, but you wondered if it wasn't just a story they told themselves, to keep a little bit of hope on the hard days.

And there were hard days. 

 

You got a manager position at the little cafe, only because you had been there longer than the other employees due to the high turnover of part time work and the inevitability of seniority. The extra cash got the three of you some new furniture. Everything after that was gravy, and even though your non-MNA income was about at the poverty line for one person, having rent paid for by the government and the trust let you wallow in relative luxury.

You celebrated with champagne, even if it was on sale.

But nothing went anywhere with Sans, and although you weren't unhappy, you were afraid he was judging you, or afraid he was afraid, and so you circled around it, paralyzed.

 

Not far from your promotion date, one of the regulars at the cafe started hitting on you.

"Sans?"

"Hmmmmm. You're so warm, I'll never get tired of it," Sans said, petting your belly, then your thighs. "So meaty."

"Not a compliment, ew. Cultural issue."

"Sorry."

"Anyway. A customer has been asking for my number for a while, and I wondered-"

Sans's fingers grip your leg. "You want to stop this?"

"No, no I just wanted to ask-" You felt Sans sit up.

"It's ok if you do. I understand." And you knew, you really knew, that he did, but the coldness in the room became a tangible thing, and the soothing hum that you had gotten so used to feeling around Sans had withdrawn. You hated this.

"Sans, hold on, I just wanted to know what we are. I haven't had-" You hadn't had an orgasm in weeks, and the ones you did have were sneaky, rushed affairs in the shower, a result of hormones, time, and a simple need for release. "I haven't accepted his number, ok?" Something inside of you untwisted painfully at that, but the fragile feeling of Sans's confidence coming back left you with a soothing relief that made up for it. "It prompted me to ask you want we are, and if you want more."

"We're partners. Right?" Sans asked, sounding worried and making you feel on-edge.

"Are you asexual?" you asked, regretting it immediately.

He blushed and shook his head. "No. More like, it's just difficult. It can't be just anyone, I think. I haven't really tried. You should be ok. Uh, that didn't come out right-"

"No, I think I get it. So can we?" You asked, fingering the hem of your pajama shirt.

"Is this like, we do the thing or you start getting phone numbers?" Sans asked, and you let go of your shirt.

"No."

"Then can we talk about a cultural difference?"

"Sure."

"It's not very exciting, and if you know how magic works at all, which I think you do, you'll wonder why you didn't think of it before."

"The suspense is killing me, Sans."

"Right." He breathed in, thinking about how to phrase things. "So. Monsters are really vulnerable to intent, right?"

"Sure, I remember that. Magic is based off of intent." 

"And, well, everyone's a little more vulnerable in, uh, bed, right? Even sleeping, since my intent is to be safe and sleep, I'm not all… I guess you might say exposed. In that moment, you're easy to kill, if you're a monster."

"I imagine anyone would be."

"And it's not unheard of."

"Oh. How did your species ever reproduce?"

"That's different. Sex is just for fun and intimacy, you know?" He said, and the look on your face must have been something else because he raised a brow bone. "You sure you did your reading? Did they tell you about Souls?"

"Classified above my clearance. Only whispers in the hallway when people thought no one else was around."

"Shit. Well, you take your Soul out and mix it with another monster's with a certain intent, in order to make a new Soul. But if you get interrupted or betrayed or whatever, it's very easy, concentrating so much, to change your intent. Less so during other activities. That's not to say any of it's safe, and there were less of us every decade."

"So it's a trust thing?" You're let down, but you try not to show it.

"I trust you more than anyone but Paps. But yeah, it's being able to really let go, and I don't know that I trust anyone that far. And stars, how badly I want to. I can feel my Soul and yours calling out every night. I don't feel afraid of what's in the dark when I'm with you. The nightmares calm down. I don't recount every shitty thing I've done in my past, or the faces…" He stopped. "I just wanted Paps to survive. So anyway, if you need to, you know, do the thing with someone, I won't stop you. I'd like you to myself, but that's greedy and I can't judge you for wanting to be touched more, can I?" You shake your head.

It was the most he'd said at once in a long time.

"No, it's ok. I just… I'll take some longer showers." You smiled at the darkness.

Sans's eyes opened. "Is that what those sounds were? I thought you were dying. Does it hurt?"

"Sans!"

 

( _The present)_

Your hands run over the other, safer side of Sans's skull and you watch him breathing, deep sleep making his features more peaceful than his past will allow when he's conscious. Even in sleep, his hand clutches yours, clinging to safe contact. He must actually be asleep this time, because he didn't respond to your touch. Or he's very, very, good at holding still.

In the tar blackness of his room, you're certain you'd see his eyes if they were open.

Eventually, he does wake up, and you get shy about staring but he smiles, nuzzling your neck with his face. 

"I think I'm ready." He says, almost-nibbling under your jawline. The soft wetness you remember from over a year ago tastes your skin, and you wonder if it's a tongue, or just feels kind of like one. Because it kind of doesn't, all tingly and making your skin light up with the spark of magic.

You lean away from him as best you can, when your instinct is the opposite. "This is your first time, right?"

"Shh, don't tell," he says, shaky uncertain fingers gripping your shirt, lifting it over your head. You help with the pajama bottoms and then his t-shirt. You're even, except for the socks you wore to bed. Appropriately enough, as you get glimpses of whatever the tongue-thing is, they're a bright blue. 

"Yeah but, how do you work?"

"Oh." Sans sits up beside you and runs a hand down your side, squeezing a breast, then the other, then letting his fingers wander to your hip before reaching back and grabbing a handful of your butt. He holds on, pulling you close, and kisses you, that tingling pressure against your mouth before his tongue, if that's what it is, probes at your lips and invades you.

His saliva is coating your lips and his tongue is filling your mouth, uncomfortably at first, then gaining confidence when a soft, rhythmic twirling makes you moan into his mouth. His tentative but persistent experiments yield responses more often than not after minutes, so much so that you pout when he pulls away. His mouth brushes your eyelids, that same magic making your whole face warm.

"I tried some stuff, and I think it just takes a little while for me to get a-"

"Sans no."

"Boner." He snorts the word, pleased with himself.

"I quit." You say, belying words with your actions, running your hands up his femur. He leans down and his tongue, which is way better than a human tongue, languidly makes a mess of your mouth until you're dizzy.

"I think I'm normal enough for you." He says, shrugging. 

"How descriptive," you respond, smirking at him int he dark. There's a glow around him now, lighting the room just enough that you hope he can see the face you're making at him. 

"I know. Here-" Sans slides between your knees after helping you shimmy out of your underwear. Naked now, you blush, but his fingers search and find your earlobe, your neck, the now-naked hollow of your throat, and your nerves light up, and you forget to be embarrassed. It's hard to breathe with the attention he's paying to you, and you take short, difficult breaths, panting in time with the halting progress of his inexperienced touch.

Your hands find his ribs and you repay him in kind, stroking back and forward, poking your fingers between a bit, in the hope that you can gain respite for your heart from its fever pace before you can't take it any longer. Your ploy works, and Sans's hand freezes when he inhales, an alarmed noise that he widens his eyes at, as surprised as anyone that his body can give him this easy pleasure.

The glow around him grows brighter, and then focuses, and your eyes are pulled downward to the source.

Ah.

Aside from the color, and the translucency, and the whole thing about glowing? You guess it's normal. He catches you looking and his already flushed face lights up.

"Uhhh"

"I think it'll work," you say, and it's the least sexy thing and he laughs and it shakes and then you sit up and kiss him again, pulling your legs up over his until you're facing him on his lap, and you can feel the roughness of his sternum and the velvety smoothness below all at once. You arch against him and hold on, discovering that most of his bones under his clothes are sensitive. As is the space between them, but so much more. His ribs slide against your nipples, barely scratching at them, and barely scratching the itch you have to be touched harder, and _there_ instead of here. 

"Jeez, Sugar. Can we?" Sans rasps, his phalanges weak as they grip your back, sliding down to rest on your ass. You roll your hips forward and he grits his teeth, shutting his eyes when your wetness touches him. You tease his spine and ilium and he stifles moans. His hands are weak and he's sweating, miserable in his ecstasy.

"You sure?"

He nods, and you lift yourself above his lap before taking him in hand, and then taking him, easing down. Neither of you could say who moans softly in your shared breath, but the long tortured whine after you're fully joined, that's completely him. Your foreheads touch and you're transfixed, frozen in place, his burning heat in your own, until some instinct pushes your hips and thighs to flex just so, and he slides his arms under yours, hands up on your shoulder blades, and sighs into the skin of your neck. Above the waist, it's your usual innocent hug.

"This is too amazing to last long," Sans whispers in warning, and you feel his body strain beneath yours.

"The magic. You're something else." The electric sensation of his magic almost hurts in the way it stimulates you, the intense tingling and buildup alien compared to the vague buzz of happiness you're used to, but you still recognize it. You won't last long either.

"I'm a monster," he says, the logical answer, and you laugh because it's true, and because you can't really see his face since it's on your neck, and you're giddy on magic, together with this strange, reserved person who's done these things but who surprises you in strange, small ways every day.

It's the beginning of the end when he moves, just shifting beneath you, barely a twitch of his hips, but your gut clenches and you reach, fingers stretching around his back as you choke back a noiseless sob. It's too much with the magic, concentrated in one spot.

"Too much?" Sans strokes the back of your neck.

"Yes. No." Breathless. "I should be asking you that."

"Nah. Just warm." You laugh again at that, and his hips twitch again. "No, I mean good warm." Your body tenses up with your giggles, a rubber band waiting to snap. "Like, really good. Like, better than anything, that kind of warm." Laughing isn't rally helpful and it travels down your midsection, squeezing along the way. "Seriously! The most warm that -fuck!" A grating whisper is the only warning you get.

Sans's magic flares within you and your body lights up in response, your own pleasure racing to overtake you in response to the explosion of his magic. You feel everything as his fingers bruise your back and he clings to you, panting. He's coming undone, and when his magic hits the rest of your body you know why he said he's vulnerable, because this, this is him, this magic, and it's more than you've ever felt. His bones are shaking and his hips helplessly bucking beneath you as you shudder, sparks against every inch of your skin, surrounded by the overwhelming presence of magic with intent behind it.

When you both decide to move again, it's to lie down, Sans's back against your front.

Something feels different, now, and not just the two of you, although that's different. Sans's breathing feels almost like your own, which is crazy because he doesn't even have any lungs. You feel new, and the darkness isn't as dark as it was, even without his light. You raise a hand to his face in the darkness, your fingers slip-sliding over the magic that keeps the crack in his head from really being there, and you _push_ and everything goes green.

You know nothing more until dawn.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I should have kept writing Broken but while I was mourning all of the angst I'm about to put those readers through, I had a plot bunny hatch on me and felt like this fluff. <3 Sorry readers visiting from there! 
> 
> If you've read this far, for an excellent speed reader that's about 9 minutes. For others, probably at least 45 (200wpm is nice and speedy). So, since you got to the bottom, why not click that little button with the heart on it? That and comments are my only pay from this. ;)
> 
> Please if you like, send typos or present/past tense or incomplete sentences (it happens, I'm my editor here) to semi-sweet-mercy.tumblr.com if you feel an urge to tell me to fix a thing. I appreciate any reader feedback though, so if you don't tumblr I'll forgive you for putting it in the comments ;)


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